


Skeletons in My Bed

by RecoveringNavigator



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys Being Boys, Candy, Depression, Difficult Decisions, Drugs Made Them Do It, F/M, Halloween, Implied abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Past Underage, Sex, Swearing, Underage Drug Use, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, makeout sessions, troublesome times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecoveringNavigator/pseuds/RecoveringNavigator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's another Happy Halloween for Jean and the gang until someone forgets to check the candy.<br/>There's too many treats and not enough tricks to stop the kids while they are ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I am unsure whether to finish this late dedication to Halloween or not. I plan to make it a short series of maybe three chapters? I'm still unsure. If you wish to read more please don't be afraid to inbox me your thoughts. I'd greatly appreciate it. ^u^

You know what I like about Autumn? The leaves. Yeah, it has to be that. The sound of the leaves crunching under my feet. Their low cries as my boots collide with their dead bodies. Their screams for help as I continue to walk-like a god-through the many paths of Trost Park. Somehow, it always makes me tremble- and I like it. 'I like feeling powerful for once instead of helpless' I thought as I continued to stroll through Trost Park. Listening to the many shameless whispers as they beg for mercy under my feet; gave me strength to live another day. And my answer? It was the same as it was yesterday. It always remained the same. I refuse to give them "mercy". I denied them such a thing for what is mercy? Something I've never had nor understood since I was five. Now, it wasn't my fault. It's just they chose the wrong day to be weak. They always did. Was this destiny? No. Such a thing didn't exist. It was anything but that. It was simply a choice. They should have never fell on my path. They should have been strong like me. All of those many colorful leaves chose to be weak. Easy as that. They all chose to let go- but me? I would've never fell so easily. Falling is the first sign of being weak. And I am not. It's like my father said, "Only the weak fall and the strong -step on those blocking their path." Those leaves just so happened to be blocking my path. 

The sounds of the old, dead leaves continued to echo under my feet as my friends began to erupt with laughter. Possibly at another offensive joke Connie and Jean found on the internet. Yeah, their laughter will forever be my happiest memories. Memories I will cherish for the rest of my life.

"Marco, what are you doing!?" Jean shouted a me.

"Yeah! Hurry up or we're gonna be late." Connie added.

"Pfft. Alright, alright. I'm comin' guys." A spark of laughter began to echo in my chest as my feet continued to stumble over lost twigs and dead leaves. My friends need for me to hurry always felt refreshing and peace was happily in the air- that is until a certain boy with an undercut began shouting- causing by passers to stop right in their tracks. Their faces twisted with distaste and shock- for the swears and insulting screams were something you wouldn't want your child to overhear. Jean was yelling at someone on his cellphone; screaming obscenities to the world and cursing the inhabitants without hesitation. This in return somehow caused me to smile for I can understand why he was so angry. My first guess would be that his mother drunk dialed him again. My second guess would be he lost the bet he made about Sasha and Connie being a "couple". We all know they are but they just don't know it yet- if that makes sense. But that's besides the point. Jean's mother was another person we all wished would just burn in hell for she was a very fucked up individual. She was a ruthless drunk who thought that a good pounding from a stranger could make any day a little better- especially if that individual offered to buy her a drink first. She was a young woman with venom in her words and curves at her waist that'd put any man in his place. Because of this list of traits, she found it necessary to kick Jean out every time she had a guest- no matter the weather or the time.Sadly, God would never allow such a woman to coexist in Hell for she would probably overthrow the Devil himself. The thought of Jean's mother with horns and a little red cap was enough to make me burst out in a fit of chuckles. This shocked most of my group for I was not one to normally laugh out loud. Especially in public. Laughter is something I'm not used to for that would mean I am happy. I am not and I'm pretty sure I never will be. You can thank my fucked up father for that. He always had to tear down my dreams with his constant screaming and enraged outbursts. Sometimes I would take it- like the good little boy I am; but most times I just couldn't stay quiet. I had to retaliate. I had to speak up. That's just the way it is.

My friends, on the other hand, definitely made me a better person- that was for sure. I know I will forever be proud to call all of them my friends; for they all are so different. I guess that's why I love them. Jean and Eren were always fighting about something childish. It was always about who was smarter or who was better at sex. Always something like that. Now I didn't mind their occasional bickering but some days I wished they'd just get along. Connie and Armin, on the other hand, are sometimes more of a handful than Eren and Jean. Armin was always trying to rationalize Connie's disrespectful behavior while Connie was just trying to have a good time. This always caused quite a debate over who was more mature. Neither were but I think that's better left unsaid. That just left Sasha, Mikasa and Annie, who were always bystanders through the continuously pathetic arguments. Occasionally giving their opinions as they tried to hide a misplaced giggle. Those boys were quite a show. They all were. And they were all so very precious to me. They all made my life better for they were lost- just like me. Lost souls looking for a way out of these fucked up times we labeled our lives.They were just those kind of kids. We all were. Ones that laughed at others pain to distract ourselves from our own. But can you really blame us. We all needed a distraction. Especially on Halloween. These were our final days to be ourselves without worrying about the consequences. No regrets could possibly brush pass us. They simply just didn't exist. In those days, our constant chattering and offensive laughter at others were precious to us; for our youth was fading. Our lives became more harsh as our legal guardians became more overwhelmed with this heartless town.

We finally reached Eren's house- well, technically shared apartment- when the street lights started to flicker on. They were always dim and had an annoyingly continuous buzz. Just like they did yesterday. It was just more background noise though as Connie uttered another racist joke about some minority; causing Jean to laugh. Eren struggled to hold back a chuckle while Armin tried his best to appear displeased. He was trying to be more mature. Always trying to be a better man than his father was. Still that didn't stop the smirk that playfully pulled at the edge of his lips. I swear that kid had no humanity when it came to racism. That he inherited from his father. Jean was the first one to knock on the door. A little too hard if I might add.

"Hey Mikasa! Open the door! " Jean shouted. 

He obviously forgot where we were because as soon as he said that Old Man Woerman stumbled out of his apartment. Jean immediately froze as the man began to stagger over to us.

"Fuck Jean..." Connie murmured. 

"Now that old cock gobbler is goin' to yell at us..." 

"Good goin' Jean." Eren hissed as he roughly elbowed Jean in the ribs.

This just left Jean defenseless as he began to justify himself and his wild behavior. This was executed with a number of countless self defending hand gestures- which, of course, caused Connie and Eren to groan in unison at his stupidity. His reasons always left us baffled for they were always such pathetic excuses. By the end of his six second crazy explanation, we all were tired- of his excuses- and in desperate need of a smoke break. Jean suddenly stopped mid sentence as we all turned to hear Old Man Woerman vomiting his guts out. Apparently, he had started back eating again. That was a surprise. His current health still didn't stop him from sending us bitter glares as he continued to wobble over to us- the smell of vomit still lingered in the air.

Worry and fear painted our faces as Connie unconsciously began to bang on the door harder. Old Man Woerman was a hopeless meth head- who always seemed to be going through some type of withdrawal. No amount of meth or cocaine could put that man at ease, I swear. I guess that's why he found it necessary to shout at us kids- because he missed when he was one. After ten seconds of slurred swears and angry mumbles, the old creep finally stood in front of us.


	2. We're Getting Fucked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I finally came up with enough courage to actually continue this story. Hopefully, it won't be disappointed.
> 
> Side note: All of the characters' knowledge on drugs and alcohol are completely immature, childish and not completely based off facts- for they are simply kids tempted by an easy way out of reality.

People say that cigarettes are the killers of the present youth; and that one blow will steal all of our future presidents, nurses, and politicians away. They say we are selling our souls to the Devil himself and that the only way to repent is to admit to your "inner" addiction. While screaming and ranting, they continue to go on and on about what we are doing wrong; but they never face what exactly they aren't doing right. They're helping us die legally; and I suppose that's just the American way. A slow drag from a cigarette fills my abused lungs as I wait for Eren and the gang to arrive. Annie and Sasha are already in my apartment; filling their lungs with another sloppy blunt that I assume they got from Connie. He never could wrap a good Titan. That he learned from Jean. I don't know why they came so early together but I decide not to question the weird friendship they have- for who am I to question such a thing. 

"Ackerman!"

Annie's voice was not loud, but it was still enough to overpower my current train of thought. My mouth lets out a tired sigh as I turn my bored gaze to her. A questionable smirk is plastered on her face and I already know I should have never allowed her to step foot in my apartment- or near my Phillies. Her smirk begins to twitch as a low chuckle erupts from her throat. I know that look all too well. She has a plan for tonight and I will most likely be dragged into the middle of it once again.

"What is it Annie?" I mutter as I begin to act like I was in desperate search of my lighter.

Before Annie can even utter a word, Sasha stumbles to the ground and begins humming in determination as she exhales clouds of stress and L into the air. She was always falling around my apartment like some lost toddler but today she seems a bit unusual. I mean more than she usually is. She is on her hands and knees, searching for a good spot to place her ear against my carpet- for what reason I'll never know. As Annie and I continue to watch in curiosity, Sasha then proceeds to pat my carpet until finally she finds a "good" spot to lay her head. Her ear is against my ebony carpet as she begins to listen for something none of us can hear. Obviously, she is a little high but still we continue to entertain ourselves with the thought that maybe something is wrong. Her face begins to change into a number of crazy facial expressions. Ones that make my body shake with a quiet chuckle- for I never was one to giggle. 

"Go answer the door." Sasha mumbles as she slowly takes another puff of her blunt.

Annie and I exchange wary glances for it is rare to see Sasha so serious. Her face is very solid in concentration; and her eyes seem to reflect some type of self confidence I've only seen Eren have. I was about to question what exactly she was talking about- for I didn't exactly hear what she said. All of a sudden, there was a harsh knock at the door. The room became consumed with silence as Annie and I sent Sasha an astonished glimpse- for it is rare for Sasha to be knowledgeable about any situation. Especially one Annie and I can not predict.

A few seconds begin to pass by and I begin to wonder if it was all just in my imagination. I was about to bring up the theory -that maybe it was just another lost drunk in search of a generous donation- when there was another jarring knock on the door. Shivers begin to travel through me as Sasha starts a cautious walk to the front door. I shoot a gander over to Annie. Her eyes are very alert and observant so I decide that I should be just as vigilant.


	3. We're Getting Totally Wasted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is technically part 2 to the last chapter because I was too lazy to write it last time.XD 
> 
> I was going to delete it all but I said eff it and published it anyway. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Things seem to be getting interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter took so long bit I had writer's block and school kept me so busy that I couldn't even breathe.

As a kid, I learned that sometimes we are faced with problems that we don't understand. At first glance, they seem too hectic for average human beings to handle. But in reality, it is just too exhausting for us to manage- so why even bother? Why even set ourselves up for stressful, laborious lifestyles when we all know that's not what we want.

It's just another thing we were taught to accept without a second thought. But after closer inspection, we soon realize that all problems are caused by us and can easily be solved with just a slow puff of low expectations. Everything could end right here, but still we continue to fight a never ending battle within ourselves. We fight what we love because that's what society said was right.

While stomping around and demanding an explanation for why, we just turn around and allow them to tell us to get back in line. We repress the addiction within us. 

"What da f-fuck are you lookin' at?" Connie stuttered as his knees began to shake from fear. Old Man Woerman's eyes lit up as his slow shaky breathes became heavy exhales of frustration. 

"You brats need to learn some respect for your elders..." Old Man Woerman snarled. I quickly shot an uneasy glance towards Armin. His shoulders were tense as he began to saunter to the front of the group. His breathes were calm and even; but his eyes were dripping in alarm. Obviously, this situation was about to take a turn for the worse.

"I don't believe you're allowed to make that threat, you dirty, religious bastard." Armin's words cut through the tension like a butcher knife as Connie and I waver in the background. We are too afraid to speak- too afraid to breathe; for we believe that any sudden movement will be the end of us. 

Our hearts tango with the sound of nervous gulps as Armin's eyes continue to glare up at the elderly man. The assertive blonde stands with a confidence that I can only assume is natural. For he does not stutter over a single word. Everything he utters is solid. Everything he pronounces is clear like Connie's bong collection. It is all absolute law to us.

Old Man Woerman exhaled slowly as he placed his hands in his baggy pockets. His eyes were beaming with a drunken rage that I could only assume was due to the withdrawal- along with the small lingering scent of E&J on his breathe.

Armin was usually a very understanding person and always tried to make the best of every situation. But as the years went by, I started to realize that his patience was running thin. We can thank his father for that.

Mere seconds seem to drag on into minutes as Armin tries to reason with the infuriated man. It appears to be working somewhat but not in the positive way Armin had hope.

Words continue to be exchanged and everything is at peace- a few loose swears and worried glances begin to take place as I watch the disgusting bastard come near my beloved friend.

"The fuck are you doing?!" I shout. With clenched hands and gritted teeth, I scream my heart out- too scared to take any chances. Too stubborn to listen to Armin's constant reminders of how to handle a situation. Instead, I decide now is the best time for me to step in and take charge.

"Why don't you just leave us alone already and go fucking die in a gutter like your daughter, you God forsaken prick!"

The words leave my mouth before I can even register what is going on. I know that what I said is disrespectful and immature but I'm too blinded by hate and fear to care. Screams and angry insults fill the air as I begin to approach the man. A fist here and a harsh bruise there are all I can remember of that day. That is before Jean intervened , accompanied by Eren and Connie. Sweat and tears escape our bodies as adrenaline runs through our veins.

I'm not sure what exactly happened after that. A few kicks to the head can do that to a kid. I do however remember Mikasa holding Eren back as Annie checked to see if the old bastard was dead. Apparently, he had stepped in to help after I had received a good upper cut to the chest. 

A dull pain echos through my lungs as I attempt to lean up. My head feels clouded as I begin to clench my hands in agony. Tears sting at the corner of my eyes as I lazily run a hand over my chest. I can feel a bruise forming as I continue to gently jab my torso in search of any other injuries. That bastard definitely did a number on me. That's for sure. 

I'm on Eren's disheveled twin bed, covered in nothing but a raggedy blanket and misplaced pillow case. That much I can tell. A few Freak Kitchen posters cover the walls and a broken dresser takes up space in the far left corner. I examine my surroundings more- making sure to take in every detail. From Mikasa's box of L's placed on the dresser to Eren's gross ass pile of dirty jeans and socks thrown at the end of the bed. After ten more minutes of continuous inspection, I decide it's time to get out of bed. 

My Daft Punk T-shirt is the only thing that I have to search for as I begin to put on a pair of somewhat clean socks. I squeeze into a pair of Mikasa's puppy slippers and shuffle my way into the living room. Blunt papers and Vodka bottles litter the floor as I hear Jean burst out in a slur of bubbly laughter and quick snorts. The volume of his chuckles and loud smart ass remarks-most likely directed at Eren- cloud the air as I turn the corner slowly. While still trying to control my breathing, I watch my friends as they begin to pack. Jean turns to stare at me and for a second I think something is wrong. That is until his lips twitch into a cheery smile. And it is then I know. I know that Jean is wasted and I am the luckiest freckled boy in the world.


	4. What Ever Happened to Being Sober?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another look into Marco's thoughts. A few things revealed while he thinks. And a few things still hidden as the gang takes a walk to Trost Park on Halloween night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I hadn't update in awhile.I was overwhelmed with school work and some house troubles. But I have time now! So I might be updating faster. Please enjoy and don't be afraid to leave a comment. I really like this chapter.

A twist here and a twirl there are the only words that can describe your loose movements, for you are like a quiet hurricane. Ready to crash into any unknowingly clueless pedestrian that just so happens to cross your path that late Halloween night. And with a wide grin plastered across your face, I watch as you begin to sing to yourself- as if you have an audience. But I wouldn't be surprised if you did, for you have such a beautiful voice.

I continue to watch you, out of the corner of my eye. And as you watch me stare at him, with a fondness I use to only reserve for you, I try my best not to remember what we had. That bond I use to cherish. That fondness I am still trying to forget, for that is old news. But gawd, what I wouldn't give to relive those memories. For those were the days.

I remember it like it was just yesterday. For who could forget those laughs you use to breathe, as if they were oxygen. Oxygen I so desperately gulped, for I was so greedy for your attention, but still so very nervous when I was the center of it. Who wouldn't treasure the things that you said. The things that held me together. The things that made me love who you were meant to be before we weren't "a thing" anymore. I use to remember it all. I use to remember you. And after dad would have another drunken episode about how I'm just another failure, like his brother, I would think of nothing but you. And like his brother, I would cry under my covers for days at a time, hoping the pain would end, hoping someone would save me. But they never did. And it use to kill me inside every single time he looked at me as if I were his brother. It use to hurt me so bad when he would ask:

"How's that gay kid doing, Marco?"

As if he cared about about how you were doing. As if he wanted to even be bothered with the idea that, maybe, I kinda like you.

He never did enjoy your company. And I knew that the day I introduced you to him. The day I brought you home hurt worse than the day Uncle Mark died, for I knew there would be no one to hold me. There would be no one to say it'll be ok after Dad screamed at me about being just another sinner. Just another possessed child heading for the fiery gates of H-E-L-L. He never was one to swear, unless there was a bottle in his hand, which only happened on every other Wednesday. Or was it Tuesday? I'll never remember for that job was reserved for that dumb freckled bastard in the sky. That job was what you were meant to do, Mark. It was always what you were meant to do.

I always knew that he would never like you, Eren. You were crazy and a loud voiced brat that always got into trouble, so i never expected him to care much for you. Hell, I didn't even think he would so much as bother to even glance in your direction. For that is just the kind of man my father is. But what I didn't expect was his anger towards me. His disgust with the idea that a human being, especially one of the opposite sex, would ever take interest in me was, in one word, devastating. But I guess, I should have saw that one coming.

I use to remember you, Eren, when my dad would try and ignore everything I was saying. For that would mean he would have to try to understand me, and that just isn't the type of man, we Bodts, were meant to be. That just isn't who we are, according to my father. And even if I did tell him, even if I screamed at the highest mountain top, that man would never understand what his words did to me. He could never understand what his thoughts did to me. For he wasn't the one that had to remember how to not be a "faggot" in front of his dad. Or the one who couldn't talk in his house unless his guardian addressed his presence. And he definitely wasn't the one who had to call 911, the day Uncle Mark died. Nor was he the one who had to grab a knife just to cut him down from my bedroom ceiling.

I was.

And I always will be the one who had to cut down Uncle Mark's body because my father was too busy calling a pastor to bless the house. He had told me to do it. He had commanded me, a sixteen year old sophomore, to cut down the body of a loved one. Because apparently, it was my room, so that meant I had to clean up what ever my uncle didn't before he died. Including him. And when his body began to fall to the floor, I watched as his eyes met mine one last time.

That room was were we shared so many memories, but now when I lay there, on that hard steel box my father calls a mattress, I cry. I wail at the memories that continuously flood my already broken mind. From the first time you, Eren, kissed me, like I was a King that deserved praise, to the time when Good Ole Mark taught me how to tie a good Eldredge knot with my tie. And the more I enter that room, the more I can't stand to breathe anymore, because all I can think about are you and him. One thing, somehow, leads to another, and by the time the sun sets, I'm already crying over another thing we use to do together. The air we use to breathe, the books we use to read, and the laughs we use to fill my room with will always be here. And no matter how much it hurts, this room will always be our room, Mark. This room will always be my favorite memory, Eren. And my worst. So whenever Dad compares me to the man I couldn't save, the man no one wanted to save, I always, somehow, begin to replay what we use to be.

I remember how I use to constantly replay those syllables you use to pronounce, Eren. With just a hint of venom, and wonder in your voice. Hell, maybe there was even a dash of excitement in your lungs, for you always were, and still are, an excitable child. Even before I had the chance to meet you.

I still sometimes chuckle at that thought whenever I am in class. The thought that a kid like you could be the way you are. Angry, bold, loud, and sometimes a little irrational are the only words I can find, in the thesaurus that is my mind, to describe you. Just how could a boy your age hate the world so much, but still be oh-so curious about it. Just how, I wonder.

But I have to say that one of my favorite things about you, Eren, were the words we sometimes exchanged. The ones where we weren't screaming or fighting over who's life sucked more. The ones were you use to tell jokes. Very awful jokes. And they were always the same corny jokes that only your lover or best friend would understand. I use to love those jokes.

I remember when you use to say:

"An apple a day is said to keep my father away."

And you'd chuckle and laugh so hard at your own stupid joke, because your dad just so happened to be my doctor, for this is a small town after all. And of course I'd smile, because I couldn't help being happy when I saw your eyes light up like a million shooting stars lost in a ocean of galaxies. For it wasn't the colors that described who you were. It was the shine. That beautiful reflection of light that somehow managed not to drown in your eyes. Your oh-so-perfect eyes that would crinkle ever so slightly when a burst of laughter would erupt from your mind. Because, I guess, you didn't notice that everything you said, and felt, fell from your eyes into your mouth. And like a waterfall, your words, and emotions somehow fell endlessly over the cliff that were your lips. The cliff where the words "I love you." finally jumped after we dated for half a year, before our big fight. But this is all just a memory for another time, for another day, Eren. Another time, for another day.

Today I would like to ask you another "What if". You remember how much I loved to ask "What if"s, don't you? I sure do. I remember how we use to spend hours on the top of your old man's car listening to the wind scream at us as we shouted our "What if"s to one another. We shouted to each other as if we were fed up with one another's presence. But the real reason was just because we use to love to have someone to fucking yell at the world with. But today I would like to calmly ask you my "What if" and, for once, I want you to listen.

What would you do if I asked you this hypothetical question, Eren? What would you say? What would you think? But that's the fun of this game. You never know what the other is going to say. So now I'll ask you my "What if"

What if I asked you:

"How can I keep him away from me?"

I murmur the words out loud, as if I am asking myself the question. And as the words leave my lips, my mind continues to bombard my heart with questions I don't know the answer to. Nor do I understand. And, for some reason, I continue to listen as I hear my mind start up again.:

'Should I just keep being myself?' it says.

And I can't help but ponder over what that means.

'Should I be that kid. And I know you know the one I'm talking about.' my mind says with a little bit of sass wedged between it's teeth.

'Should I be the one that nervously takes side glances at him because I'm too much of a fucking coward to look him in the eye. That one idiot that says lame pick up lines like':

"Sweetie, I may be a little under aged, but even though your movie is rated R, I'm feeling a little daring and would love to just watch you be on that big screen that could be our lives."

'Should I be that fucking faggot? The one my dad always tells me I am but I never ever aim to be. I never ever try to be this. I just am.'

'But do I have to be that kid?'

I run a rough hand through my thick hair and take a slow breathe, making sure to spare a glance at that kid with the terrible undercut again. And just when my eyes turn in his direction, I somehow meet another's. Huge emerald eyes glimpse me over, causing my breathe to hitch.

"Eren..." I whisper his name as if he is just another sin Dad use to read me from his Bible.

I remember now why I hold such high respect for the kid. For he always, somehow, manages to look calm and cold at the same time when he is evaluating someone. And God, did he make me feel like I was beneath him. Eyes, as bright as the sea, were burning a hole in what I called "my soul". And, for some reason, I can not find the power in me to look away. As I continue to watch him, I begin to notice his eyes are searching for what I was looking for. They begin to seek out who I was falling for. And then, as if on cue, he finds it. He finds him, and his eyes widen in anger, and shock. And I take that as my cue to leave. As I attempt to catch up with the rest of the gang, he whips his head, hard, to glare daggers into my back. And the only reason I know that is because, before I could make it up to Sasha, I decided to take a cautious peek over my shoulder.

All I could see was that he was staring right back at me, his face twisted into some form of a scowl. And for some reason, I felt an overwhelming guilt begin to pool at the bottom of my stomach.


	5. Being Sober Was Made For The Cool Kids: Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arguments.Truth or Dare? Shitty brats being themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI everyone!Sorry I posted this chapter so late. I just kept re-reading it over and over but I'm still not satisfied. *shrugs* The real fun starts next chapter, honestly. I'm so excited.

I don't remember when that bottle landed in my calloused hands. Nor can I recall when our hands began to overlap one another's.

But what I do remember, is the fact that we somehow ended up laughing together. And after Armin, and Sasha stole some ten year old's candy, your eyes began to engulf me in a whole new world. And that somehow lead to Connie saying I needed to watch out for you. Because you were, obviously, shit faced and had been that way ever since we left Eren, and Mikasa's apartment. 

As the group settled into the neighborhood park's sand box, next to the rusty jungle gym covered in Halloween stickers, my eyes somehow begin to stray away to Eren. Who just so happens to be glaring at you with a hatred I can only imagine. But, for some reason, you don't care. Or maybe you just don't notice. You never do, because you are just that type of kid. The one who strips off a couple layers of clothes, in the winter, and dances in the blankets of snow. All because you think it is "a once in a lifetime chance". While doing that, and so much more, your neighbors somehow always end up calling the police for "indecent exposure". Which always results in your father having to drive up to the Maria police station to bail us out. Again. For that was not the first time you did something deemed "inappropriate" to your neighbors. But I guess that's just one of the things I love about you, Jean. Just one of the things I admire about you.

"Hey Marco. Hand me the mini Hersey's"

The voice boomed against my ear like a bomb in Iraq. And for, whatever reason, I still turned around to see who it was. Strands of pale blonde hair tickled my nose, as I tried to glance down at my best friend. Armin had always been a short kid, but he was also the type of person who never heard of "personal space".

"Are you just gonna keep starin' at me like I'm ya own personal lil fuck boy or are ya gonna hand me one?"

Armin slowly pronounces the words as if he purposely wants everyone in our group to hear. And they do.

After a mixture of confusing explanations, and slurred arguments, the night continued to go on. Just like any other night. Connie, and Armin shared a heated discussion over whether Twix should be considered a cookie or not. Even though it said so on the wrapper, Armin continued to argue that if it was a cookie then it'd be sold in boxes. Not just placed on the shelves in their thin wrappers next to the OTHER chocolate bars. 

"Plus..." he said "... they labelled it a cookie bar on the wrapper." And as the words left his thin lips, he then proceeded to point to said wrapper, as if it was obvious.

To Armin, this meant it was a bar of some sort. But he didn't seem to notice that by admitting such a thing he also admitted, to Connie, that it was, indeed, a cookie. The argument seemed to go on for hours, but in reality it had just lasted a good thirty minutes. That is until Annie decided to step in.


	6. Being Sober Was Made For The Cool Kids: Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone makes out with another. More thinking about things we all know we shouldn't. And maybe even jealousy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually wrote quite a bit in this chapter and you can thank my girlfriend's enthusiasm about this fanfic for me writing so much in one night. If there are any errors or grammar mistakes please don't hesitate to tell me!~ Thanks for reading. ^u^

I am high off of life. 

Now I know what you all are thinking.

How the hell can you be high off of life, Marco?

But see, you’re not asking the right question.

The better question is, how can you not?

“High” doesn’t always have to come from the drugs or the pills. “High” can come from looking back at how far you made it, and laughing at all your failures. “High” can be hitting your sister with a baseball bat because she told your dad you spilled paint in the garage. “High” can be making out with Eren on his dad’s old queen mattress when his dad is at the hospital. “High” can come from life.

So if you ask me what I’m “high” off of, nine times out of ten, I’m gonna say “Life.”

I’m high off of whatever made me get out of bed this morning. I’m high off of whatever makes anybody do anything in this sad excuse we call “our world”. I’m high off of whatever made my mother decide to give birth to a fucktard like me. I’m high off of whatever made Annie think it was “appropriate” when she told our Spanish teacher, Petra, that, “Your hips are too wide for you to be Puerto Rican.” I’m high off of whatever made my dad, last Tuesday, pick up my stash of Mary Janes, and throw them out the window. 

So to answer your question, yes. I am very high off of life.

But not as high as Connie was when he decided to come out of his trailer today dressed like that. For he had to be totally shitfaced when he picked out that fashion disaster he was (and still is) wearing. 

I blink, hoping it’s just the drugs Annie handed me a minute ago that’s causing me to see such a terrible outfit. A sigh escapes my lips as I steady my breathing while taking a long inhale of fresh air. And then I count.

1.

2.

3.

Then I open my eyes. But sadly, it’s not the high that’s causing me to see colors. It’s Connie. My eyes seem to stare a little too hard. And I only say that because by the time I realize I’m staring, Connie is staring right back. But that still doesn’t excuse Connie for blowing smoke in my face. I cough a little too hard at the unexpected drug that seemed to be burning my lungs. And as I send a lazy glare his way, I try my best not to let a smirk creep on my lips.

“Connie.” I say.

“Hmm?”

“Hit me again.”

And all of a sudden, I am alive again. And I’m ready to do anything in order to be anybody. So I drink. I drink until my bottle is completely empty. And when I’m ready to drink another alcoholic concoction I feel Armin’s hand casually hand me another.

One shot.

Two red solo cups.

Three discarded beer cans later.

I’m now somebody, but I wish I was everybody.

I wanna be the flower boy at my best friend’s wedding. I wanna be the kid on CNN found guilty of rape charges. I wanna be the one who chose to split the Red Seas. I wanna be somebody, but also everybody. So I try to do what any logical person would do.

I inhale weed as if it is oxygen.

And as I toss another mini Snicker in my mouth, I exhale. My shoulders ache from carrying all this mental bullshit inside instead of just telling Eren. But I think we are too far gone to even be considered friends right now. So right now drugs are my friends. 

I remember when my dad asked me:

“Why the hell do you get high?”

I didn’t bother to reply. But if I did I would have said, “I get high because I wanna be high. So high that even the gods can’t touch me when they rise from their graves, for they are dead to me now. “

I wanna be god. And once I take a long inhale from Annie’s blunt, I am forever fried. But I can still hear my friends talk amongst themselves aimlessly.

“Marco.”

The clouds are just another side effect of the drug. But that still doesn’t excuse me from squinting at a freckle on my hand instead of acknowledging Armin. I weighed the possibility that maybe he had something important to say.

“Wanna play spin the bottle?”

He did not.

“Why the hell would I wanna play spin the bottle?” I asked.

Armin then turned to me and with a smirk on his face he said four words to me that changed my night.

“Why the hell not?”

____________

From pills to syringes, from thoughtlessly discarded red solo cups to purposely stolen wine coolers.

I am drugged. 

And like the curve of the pills we use to take, after skipping Mr. Ackerman’s class, I am falling. My nails are scratching the pavement. My eyes are blurring the fluorescent lights with the sound of badly made mixtapes.

And now I am falling into something else.

Into a world of unsure decisions, and last minute glances at my peers. I am drowning. And like that warm half opened beer we stole from your dad’s tool shed, I am beaming with an excitement I can only label “amusement”. 

“Ok, Connie. You first.”

“Why me?!”

“Because we all know you are just dying to get in Sasha’s pants.”

“Or you’ll at least die trying…”

“Fuck you, Eren.”  
“Will someone just go already.”

“Connie, come on.”

“Fine. I’ll go. But not because you pricks told me to!”

“Whatever man.”

Connie picked up the glass INDIO bottle and quickly spun it on the sidewalk. As it spun, he made sure to shoot a nervous smirk towards me. He looked as if he was contemplating something. Maybe it was his decision to get out of bed this morning or the fact that the bottle was beginning to slow down. Which ever it was made his palms sweat and his mouth dry. But I’d never tell him how obvious he was when he stared at Sasha as she flicked another ant off her pants leg. After two minutes, the bottle stopped and landed on someone with mismatched Nikes.

Someone with a little too much pep in their step. 

It landed on Sasha.

“Ok, Sash. Truth or dare?”

Connie tried to keep his voice steady, but we could all tell he was beginning to lose his “cool” composure. One look at the kid and you could easily tell he had a thing for chicks with brown eyes and long hair. He had a thing for girls that talked too loudly as they chewed on a stick of Juicy Fruit. He had a thing for girls like her. And after five years of friendship, we could all tell one day he was going to ask her out. Just not today.

“Hmm. I pick dare! Lay it on me, ConCon!”

“Pfft. Sure. Alright. I dare you to-”

“Dare her to kiss you!” Jean shouted “We know you’ve been waiting for this since middle school!”

“Shut up, Sugar cube!” Connie snarled.

Mikasa and Annie were silently exchanging amused glances while Armin was trying his best to hold back a chuckle. I on the other hand stared at Jean in contemplation.

It’s not like he was lying. Connie had liked Sasha for quite some time now. It’s just he never went about saying things the right way. Jean was anything but subtle. So I decided now was the best time to intervene.

“Connie, just dare her to kiss you so Jean will stop being a dick.”

“Oh, you guys know you love it!”

I do. I really do. But now isn’t the time to confess my deep interest in the boy.

“What is with you guys!” Connie shouted. “You’re making Sash uncomfortable!”

“ I don’t mind.”

To say Connie was stun would be the biggest understatement since Eren claimed he was nothing more but an “average” looking punk. Pure disbelief painted his face as Sasha picked her nails with a determination I’d only seen once. And that was when she was sure that she could do a backflip off the jungle gym. She could. But she also broke her arm in the process.

“W-What do you mean you don’t-”

“I don’t mind kissing you, Connie. I really don’t.”

Sasha began to scoot over and we all made way for the bride to be.

“You k-know you don’t h-have to do this if you don’t want to.”

Sasha shook her head and we watched her lean over towards Connie. I noticed their lips barely brush one another’s as I heard Sasha mumble one last “I want to.” to the boy with a shaved head. And at that moment I swear Connie lost what little hate he had reserved for the world in favor of loving that hyper brunette.

____________

I am used to this. Used to being the wet blanket at my parents’ Super bowl parties. Used to screaming about how much I like you in the shower when I replace every word in every long song with your name. Used to breathing light compliments towards you as if I have always seen the great in you. I haven’t. But that all changed, when I had to explain to you why I had a couple of burn marks on my neck where my skin use to be. Some had the audacity to think they were freckles. You had the common sense to know it was pain. And somewhere, deep down, it still is.  
____________

Hands slid were clothes should have covered as tongues began to coat one another. Lips began to swell with need and ambition as secrets were whispered to the other. Murmurs of love were dripping from the boy’s mouth. And like a disease, she was catching every last syllable that dared to jump from his lips with no regrets, for she knew this boy was a force to be reckon with. One person moaned, and the other yelped as they felt teeth clatter against one another. It was messy, but it was far more romantic than any Romeo and Juliet play could even try, and manage. They kissed as if they would drown without the other. As if they couldn’t breathe without some form of contact. He panted like he had just ran a marathon. And she hummed like she was pleased at the thought that she caused this. 

This, whatever this was, was the beginning of their love story.

And the end of Connie’s turn at Truth or Dare.

“Get a room lovebirds.” Annie muttered.

Sasha and Connie must’ve heard the girl begin to become agitated for they decided to move their makeout session to the other side of the sand box.

“Ok. So since baldy and Pooh Bear are eating each other’s faces, who wants to go next?” Jean casually stretched as he allowed his eyes to linger a little too long on me. 

Maybe he noticed the new burn mark on my collarbone. Or maybe he just liked the way I flushed like a virgin. But me? I like to think that, maybe, he just enjoyed staring at every mark, every stroke, that made me what others are too embarrassed to admit. A galaxy amongst planets. A smudge of mascara accidentally smeared on another teenage girl’s face. A pebble skipped across puddles on another rainy day. I am a memory worth remembering. And to say I wasn’t attracted to the atoms that make up Jean Kirstein would be the biggest lie I have ever told.

Eren on the other hand didn’t think so lightly of Jean’s glances. And he made that very clear by walking over to me with a scowl fixed on his face. I shrunk instantly under his angry glare for I could tell that this was an argument waiting to happen. He made sure to sit on my right in a weak attempt to block me from Jean’s view. Jean scoffed and I died of embarrassment at Eren’s clear display of affection. He always was the jealous type, especially after a bad breakup. 

This was our fifth.

“Well, Annie? How ‘bout you spin?” Armin said as he shot a cautious glance my way.

Never had I been so happy that Armin was great at reading people. And by the look on his face, I could tell he knew I was pretty conflicted. I let a forced smile paint my face as I gave a slow nod in Arm’s direction. He returned the gesture, and made sure to toss a Skor bar my way. My mouth watered at the substance and I tried my best to not demolish it right away.

‘Treats like this are meant to be savored.’ I thought. 

I looked briefly at him, and when he allowed a small smirk to fall upon his lips, I knew I had been blessed. I slowly began to rip the wrapper off, making sure to toss it aside. And as my lips swallowed the chocolate delight, my teeth began to sink into it with a satisfying snap. Pure ecstasy filled my chest as I let the sweet substance melt in my mouth. And I began to ponder up all the ways one could not live without chocolate as I took another bite. A quiet moan escaped my lips. And as I felt Eren’s hand brush mine, my body suddenly became stiff from the contact. I tried my best to focus on anything else. The bottle spinning from Annie’s fingertips. The way Connie was moaning against Sasha’s skilled lips. The way Jean was playing in the sand like a preschooler high off of one dollar sharpies. Hell, I was even trying to focus on the way Armin was separating his twix, layer by layer. But for some reason the only thing I could focus on was skin so tan it mind as well be fawn drowned in shades of ochre brown. 

In some people’s minds, it was just another memory worth remembering.

But sadly, in mine, it wasn’t.


End file.
